


Mountain Tops In Paris Cold

by Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)



Series: Vamps AU [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 03:27:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1803571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vamps AU.  Skyeward.  Ward and his new progeny make a rest stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mountain Tops In Paris Cold

They walk two miles to a diner in the middle of nowhere, which probably serves locals during the day and freaks of nature at night.  The good news is it’s still night, four am, and so they’re still in the ‘freaks of nature’ realm of possibility.

The bad news is the sun is going to be up in two hours, and Ward doesn’t have a car.  He’s never needed one, really.  He’s got nowhere to go.  If she makes this phone call quick, they should make it to his apartment in time.

If he can convince her to stop dragging her feet, that is.  She’s been kicking up dirt the whole way, holding Ward’s leather jacket tight around her shoulders.  It’s been a quiet walk, and he likes that about her.  He doesn’t know her, yet, but save for their little spat earlier, she doesn’t seem to talk much.  They’ve got that in common, then.

She follows him up the creaky, wooden steps to a neon-lit diner on stilts, and when he opens the door a bell rings.  Then, a woman screams.  Wait.  That’s not right.

  
  


“Skye!” he yells.  She’s leaped on a waitress, pinned her, and has started her meal.  Fuck.  Fuck fuck holy fuck, she is fast.  “Skye, get off her!” he yells again.  “Skye!”

She doesn’t seem to hear him over the her own growls and slurps and pants.  Like an animal.  Jesus.  And he can smell the blood, too, it’s getting all over the floor.  He digs his nails into his palm to steady himself.

“Skye, stop drinking that waitress right now!” he demands.

Finally, she pauses.  She holds the waitress.  Eyes blackened, fangs bared.  He’s been a maker for an hour and he’s already fucked up.

“No,” she says.  “I’m hungry.”  She dives back in.

“Skye…” he warns.  “Stop.”

She pulls back again, showing him that her mouth is bloody and full.  She swallows.  “Fuck you.”

He doesn’t want to do this, and he’s not even sure it will work but- “As your maker,” he says.  “Stop drinking that waitress.  Put her down.  Step away.”

She does as she’s told.  Blank-faced and stiff-limbed.  He gulps.  He steps forward, over the waitress, putting himself between Skye and her dinner.

Skye regains control of her body in that moment, and Ward becomes acutely aware of her fist cracking across his jaw.

So.  She’s got a damn good right hook.  Also: ouch.

“What the fuck was that?!” she yells.  “What did you just do to me?”

“You were going to kill that waitress!” he says.  He would thank a higher power that it’s just the waitress, that there are no patrons to deal with, but tonight’s events have led him to believe that the higher powers don’t want to hear him.

“Not that,” Skye spits.  “What did you do to me?”

He sighs.  “As your maker I have…” he winces.  “Certain responsibilities that I hold over you.”

Her fangs are still out, and they barely fit in her mouth.  Even covered in blood, he finds her so unnervingly pretty.  She’s furious, though.  Livid.  “Can you control me?”

“Only if I preface it,” he says.  “I have to really mean it.”

“Great,” she says.  “So I was right.  This is a sex thing.”

He has the decency to look shocked.  Or at least offended.  “Excuse me?”

“As your maker,” she says, mocking his tone of voice.  “I command you to get on your knees and-”

“I would never do that,” he says, with so much hurt that she almost looks guilty.  “You have to believe that I would never do that to you.  Never.  I just-” His shoulders slump.  “I couldn’t let you kill her.  There’s been enough death tonight.”

“I didn’t want to be a vampire,” she tells him.  “So these commands of yours?  Not really something I’m going to be okay with.  Any of them.”

“I didn’t think I’d have to go there,” he says.  “I didn’t think you’d be that hungry.”

She finally manages shame, as a flicker in her eyes.  She wipes her mouth on the sleeve of his jacket, and it would bother him if he hadn’t done the same thing a thousand times.

“We need to clean this up,” he tells her.  “Come on,” he says.  “I’ll show you how to handle her and then I’ll go check the kitchen.”

  
  


They crouch side by side on the tile together, where the waitress lays bleeding.

“Your fangs are still out?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Skye says.

“Watch me,” Ward tells her.  He fangs out, and feels a little silly doing it in front of Skye, with the curl of his upper lip and the way he always scrunches his nose.  She snickers, and he wishes he could tell her that this is neither the time nor the place.

He pricks his finger on his tooth and thinks for an instant of spinning wheels, but he’s also a bit preoccupied with finding the holes Skye left on the poor girl’s neck.

“You just need a little blood,” Ward says.  “To heal up most wounds.”  The puncture fades under his index finger.

“Like what you did to me,” Skye says.

“Not exactly,” he says.  “This is purely external.  You ingested my blood.”

“Gross,” Skye says.

“It’s not gross!” he says, rather indignantly. 

“Whatever, maker,” she says.  She follows his lead, pricking her index finger and covering up the five other holes she left. 

“You’re chatty, aren’t you?” he asks.

“So I’ve been told,” she says.  “Why?  Getting bored with me already?”

“No,” he says.  “I just-you were very quiet on the walk over.”

She shrugs.  “I was hungry.”

“We were supposed to be finding you a phone,” he says.  “Not dinner.”

“Was I just supposed to wait until we got back to your cave?” Skye asks.  “Do you have a whole cache of people waiting to be eaten?”

He blinks at her.  “I live in a basement apartment,” he says.  “And I have some AB in the fridge.”

She wrinkles her nose.  “Like, in bags?”

“Yes, in bags,” he says.  “What’s wrong with that?”

“Isn’t it going to be cold?” she says.  She looks back at the waitress.  “It was so warm…”

“You can put it in a saucepan and heat it,” he says.  “It’s not so bad.”

“Are you actually the most boring vampire ever or just first runner-up?” she asks.

“I’m your maker,” he says.  “So you’re going to have to get used to doing things my way.”

She sneers at that.  “Yeah.  Okay.”

  
  


The waitress groans, which reminds Ward that he’s supposed to be teaching, here, not arguing about his lifestyle.

“Okay,” he says.  “You’re about an hour old, so I’m going to do this next part.”  He gently lifts the waitress up by the shoulders.  Poor girl.  How many lives is Grant Ward going to ruin tonight?  He must be going for a record.

He waits for his eyes to catch hers, and then waits for her to slip back out of focus.

“Hello there,” Ward says, as politely as he can manage.  “It would appear you’ve had a bit of an accident.”

The waitress nods.  “Got attacked-”

“No,” Ward coos.  “No, you nicked yourself in the kitchen, didn’t you?” he says.  “You had an accident, but you’re fine now.”  She blinks, then nods again.  “Tell me, do you have a safe way of getting home?”

“Bobby picked me up,” she said.  “He’s in-” she weakly gestures for the kitchen.

“I’m going to talk to Bobby for you,” Ward says.  “He’s gonna take you home, and you’re going to shower, destroy these clothes, drink plenty of orange juice, and then sleep off the rest of your accident.  And when you wake up, you’re not going to remember me or my progeny, are you?”

She shakes her head.  “Won’t remember,” she affirms.

“Holy shit,” Skye whispers, behind him.

Ward smiles, and tries to mean it.  “What’s your name?” he asks.

“Dana,” the waitress says.

Ward flinches.  “Well, Dana, let me go talk to Bobby.  You just stay here and don’t be afraid, okay?”

Dana nods.  Ward leans her against the bar stool.  He rises.  Skye is inching towards Dana, like she thinks Ward won’t notice.

“Skye,” he says.  “Don’t eat her.”

“But I’m still hungry,” she whines.

“Hold it,” he says.  He points at Dana, then back to Skye and jabs his finger, to make a point.  “Do not eat her.”

Skye falls back, sitting on the tile floor with her legs spread in front of her and her arms crossed.

“I’ll see if there’s anything in the kitchen,” he says. 

“It won’t be the same,” she says.

“Skye, don’t make me-”

“I haven’t made you do anything,” she spits.  “Don’t you ever blame your actions on me.  I’m not the one holding the command switch.”

He has no reply.  He tries to think of one, but the rage in her eyes is back and bright and it makes him uneasy.  “I’ll be right back,” he mutters.  He breaks her gaze. 

  
  


Ward returns from the kitchen with a raw beef flank and finds Skye exactly where he left her, still pouting.  She’s glaring at Dana like Dana’s done her some personal offense.

“Skye,” Ward says.  “I got Bobby to give us a five minute head start before he takes Dana home.  And-” he dangles the flank.  “I got you something to eat.”

She huffs and turns her head to the side.

“What?” he says.  “It’s perfectly good beef!”

She doesn’t respond.  She’s giving him the silent treatment.  He is not prepared for this.  No amount of military training or vampire living or book reading prepared him for her.

“Skye, come on,” he says.  “Just to hold you over.  Please.”

She turns her head back in his direction.  Cocks one eyebrow.

Ward tries to smile.  “Pretty please?”

“With a cherry on top?” she asks.

“Yes,” he says.

“Then say it,” she demands.

He’d rather be dead.  He would rather be absolutely dead.  “Pretty please with a cherry on top?” he offers.

Skye smirks.  “What?”

“Eat this and come with me,” he says.

She gets to her feet.  “My phone call,” she says.  “You promised me a phone call.”

The flank drips pink juice onto the floor.  “There’s a phone behind the counter,” he says.  “Can you make it quick?  We need to beat the sunrise.”

She scoffs at that.  “I’ll leave a voicemail,” she tells him, strolling behind the counter.  “Wow,” she says.  “With a cord and everything.”  She picks up the receiver, dials.  Waits.

“Hey, Phil,” she says.  “It’s me.  I, um-I had a run in with Quinn’s guys.”  He gives her a look of concern that she ignores.  “And I’m okay but I need to skip town.  They’re on my ass.”  Her voice doesn’t falter once, not even on the ‘I’m okay.‘  She’s a natural liar, he thinks.  “They took my phone but I’ll try to get a burner soon, and I can call you when you’re actually awake.  Sorry about this, Phil.  Talk soon.”  She slams the phone back down.  For a moment, there is a still silence, and then Ward waves the flank steak at her.

“Here,” he says.  He has a thousand questions, all at once.  She eyes the steak warily, but takes it, and squishes it in between her fingers.

“Don’t play with your food,” Ward says.

“Go fuck yourself,” she says.  He thinks it’s just her natural reaction to him at this point, and that hurts more than it should.

“Skye,” he offers.  She rolls her eyes in response, shoulders past him and disappears out the door.

  
  


“Where are we going?” she asks, when he joins her at the bottom of the steps. 

“My place,” he says.

“Your basement apartment?” she says.

He nods.  “The same.”

She considers this, as they start to walk back down the road.  She takes a bite of flank when she thinks he’s not looking, and her face sours.

“This doesn’t taste very good,” she says.

“It’s cow,” he says.  “And we need people to survive.  So yeah, cow’s not going to taste as good.”

She frowns.  “I really liked hamburgers,” she murmurs.

He watches her take another bite and chew and swallow like it pains her to do so.  He wonders what it would’ve been like to take her out for a burger, get beers, talk loudly over televisions and other blaring trinkets of modernity.  It’s another thing he’ll never know.

“What you did back there,” Skye says.  “To Dana.  Can all vampires do that?”

He watches their feet kick up dirt. “Yes.”

“Can they do it to each other?”  Skye asks.

“Depends on the vampire,” he says.  “Powers-Power, actually, is complicated.”

“So someone could do to me what you did to Dana?” she asks.  “Someone that isn’t you?”

“Giving you a command as your maker and using suggestion on a human are two different things,” he says.

 “Could your commands fuck with my head?” she asks.  “Not just my body.  Could you say, make me forget everything about my human life?”

He freezes.  “Skye,” he says.  “Why would I ever do that?”

She stops, if only so that she doesn’t lose him.  “I’m not saying you would.  I’m just wondering if you could.”

“Yes,” he says.  “But I would never-”

“Could you tell a human to forget their entire life, too?  With your ‘suggestions?’” she makes little air quotes.

He feels at once like he belongs in a hole in the ground.  And not just to sleep.  “Yes.”

“So I don’t see a difference, then,” she says.

“You’ll understand eventually,” he says.

She shrugs in response.  She rips off another piece of meat with her teeth and resumes her walk.  Despite the fact that she has no idea where his apartment is.

He catches up to her again. 

“Are there vampires that do that to their progenies?” she asks.

“Do what?” he says.

“Fuck with their heads,” she tells him.  “Make them forget their human lives.”

He sighs.  “Yes.”

She doesn’t look at him.  “Anyone you know?”

“Not well,” he says.  “And not in a long time.”

“I didn’t have the best human life,” she says.  “But I don’t want to forget it.”

“You won’t,” he says.  “I’m sorry about-The maker thing.  I should’ve warned you.  I panicked.”

“Just don’t do it again,” she says.  “And we’ll call it even.”

“I won’t,” he says.  It’s a promise he prays he can keep.

  
  


“So, I don’t sparkle in the sunlight?” Skye asks.

“What?” he asks.  “What does that even-No.  You don’t.”  He looks over to her, idly chewing on her steak.  She looks down at it, then back to him, and offers it.  It’s the nicest thing that anyone’s done for him in a while.  Just.  Sharing food.

“Do you mind?” he asks.  “I’m pretty hungry, too.”  He’d set out to find someone to feed on, tonight.  But he’d ended up miles away from home instead.

“It’s not very good,” she tells him.

He rips the remaining flank in half and hands her back the bigger piece.  She shakes her head, shoves the piece back into his hands, and grabs the smaller bit.

“You’re bigger,” she tells him.

“I thought you hated me,” he says.  He takes a bite.  It’s not great, but it’s certainly not terrible.  She’s just being dramatic, he supposes.

“You saved my life,” she says.  “Sort of.  I guess I owe you enough for that.”

“I didn’t do it to gain any favors,” he says.  “The steak’s fine, by the way.”

“Yeah, well,” Skye says.  “I might as well be sort of nice to you, if we’re going to be living together.  How many beds do you have?”

One.  He has one bed.  He didn’t think about that.  “Um,” he says.  “We’ll work something out.”

He actually gets a grin, however sarcastic it may be, for that.  And even with all the blood and the bits of meat and the nerves flitting in her eyes, she has a beautiful smile.


End file.
